1....Memories, mostly golden.
It is hard to reminisce about Bali without touching upon what has already been expressed by others. A personal viewpoint is what this is.
Although very frequent visitors, and poor to prove it (!), the spectacles worn by both my wife and I are not totally rose-tinted. It is not my intention to get up anybody's nose by my comments, merely to stimulate discussion. For instance, although we are habitual Legianites, we see nothing wrong with people favouring other parts : to each his own in this tropical treasure-box of delights.
The great skills of the road users in Bali have to be seen to be believed. Motoring through scenes of great chaos, competing for only inches at times, they are never seen to be flustered, road-rage is never displayed, they seldom collide and manage to keep an even disposition in circumstances which would drive most Westerners batty in 5 minutes.
The elegance, suppleness and resilience of Baliese ladies who are able to ride side saddle on the back of a small motor-bike for hours over rough roads, dressed in constrictive Temple clothing. In addition to this they carry large weights of offerings and, upon arrival, slip nonchalantly off the pillion and present themselves totally unruffled for the ceremony.
The ill-repaired scruffiness of the roads outside many large hotels seems designed to discourage guests from getting a good impression of the outside. E.G. Padma St. heading west from the gates of the Mandira and Padma hotels has side-walks dangerously broken in many places, leaking drains and assorted canine dumpage to discourage the walker. Surely the hotels with staff so large could do a little for the general public ? The entrance to the beach at the end of Padma is a suppurating scab on the bum of Bali, offering seeping sewerage and dumped rubbish as a bouquet of pong.
The great joy beaming from the face of an old gentleman, stooping with kretek in mouth at the side of the road. He lovingly strokes, pets and grooms his fighting rooster, whispering dreams of glories past and future into its pampered ear, while he gives off vibes of sheer delight and happiness in just being alive, to passers by. Who could not smile at such a person?
The blender jockey who one moment is swapping Okkerisms with the tourist and, in the next disappears out back only to reappear as a Priest whose function is to keep the premises safe by making offerings in the prescribed manner to the Gods. The waitress may also have the same function, dressed in beautiful costume while she presents herself at the many small altars in as beautiful a form as possible, while she performs the age-old liturgy.
A Priestess, whom we saw at a domestic temple dedication recently, had decorated her hair with frangipani while her hair was kept in place by a metal butter-fly clasp complete with a mobile, gauzy, artificial butter-fly. Hard to imagine a Reverend Mother doing that !
The lack of top cover on numbers of lady tourists who feel they must dress at all times in extreme decolletage, or none, for the delectation of all and sundry. On the beach this is quite acceptable, especially to the young, local lads who arrive after school to view the assorted shapes and sizes of touristic "susu panas" on display and equally so to certain Oriental gentlemen who frequent the fringes bearing long distance cameras with magnifying lenses. However, although the local people are tolerant, they do not appreciate people parading around their streets or shops in a semi-undressed state.
The stern-faced, gun-toting policeman who turns on a smile of considerable wattage when a tourist gives a hesitant "selamat pagi Pak Polisi". These Police are usually happy to stop the traffic for anyone hesitating on the kerb, aghast at the stream of mobile mayhem charging by in clouds of nose-clogging fumes.
The great patience displayed by the truckie and his assistant, smoking with great, gentlemanly aplomb while they watch the women, covered in dust and grime unload ten tonnes of cement, non-stop in the blazing noon. No water bag in sight. Different strokes.
The shining, spick and span children wandering off to school, at either dawn or noon, satchels swinging and not a hair out of place : surely they own the world patent on "cutesies". Saturdays they can be seen carrying various cleaning and gardening implements or potted plants as they go to clean up their schools and gardens.
Older children affectionately carrying their younger brother or sister who may be two years old whilst they themselves are scarcely four. The caring starts at a very early age and is a joy to behold.
Sunday evenings on the beach when all of Bali comes out to seek a breeze, frolic with their kids, kick football and play tourist for an hour or two as they chat to all and sundry, local or tourist. Muslim ladies are to be seen bathing with decorum fully dressed : the kids are not so inhibited as they splash like kids will do anywhere while the men paddle with rolled-up trousers reminiscent of Grand-dad's day.
As sunset approaches, football games grow more frantic, kids are called back to the family circle, cameras begin to click and couples draw closer to each other to watch Surya, the Sun God, taking his evening bath in His evening robes of rose and bronze, before He goes away to sleep with the stars until He brings the next golden day in Paradise.